Titanium
by waggishremarks
Summary: "I deserve to know." Four words sealed Harry Potter's fate at the end of his first year; he is swept away for training and protection. Six years later, life forces him back to Hogwarts and into the lives of those he left behind. H/G - rated M for safety.
1. Prologue

_Titanium_ by waggishremarks

**Summary**: "I deserve to know." When Dumbledore reveals the secrets of Harry's past after the disastrous events of his first year, Harry's fate is sealed. At his own insistence, he disappears to be trained and protected without a word to anyone. Six years later, life forces him back into the halls of Hogwarts and into the lives of the friends he left behind. But the Harry they knew is gone. In his place is a cold, calculating, distant young man haunted by the decisions he made as an eleven-year-old boy.

**A/N:** This is a story that popped into my head today. It's one of those stories that wouldn't leave me alone until I started it. I've always wondered what would have happened if Dumbledore had just been honest with Harry and told him the truth in his first year - I understand that Dumbledore didn't want to rob Harry of his childhood, but he kind of did. By not telling Harry, he forced Harry to worry all the time about if Voldemort was going to come after him. In this story, Harry is pro-active about defeating Voldemort. The repercussions of that decision, however, is what this story is all about.

This is just the prologue. The following chapters will be much longer and have much more original content in them.

Enjoy.

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**[Italics taken from:  
**_**Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone**_**, American ed. p. 298 – 299 and **_**Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**_**, American ed. p. 839 and 844]**

_Harry lay there, lost for words. Dumbledore hummed a little and smiled at the ceiling._

"_Sir?" said Harry. "I've been thinking … Sir – even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who – "_

"_Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."_

"_Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"_

"_No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share … not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, while you may only have delayed his returned to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time – and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."_

_Harry nodded, but stopped quickly, because it made his head hurt. Then he said, "Sir, there are some things I'd like to know, if you can tell me … things I want to know the truth about …"_

"_The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."_

"_Well … Voldemort said that he only killed my mother because she tried to stop him from killing me. But why would he want to kill me in the first place?"_

_Dumbledore sighed very deeply this time._

"_Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day … put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older, I know you hate to hear this … when you are ready, you will know."_

Harry observed the sheets on his bed for a long moment, and then raised his eyes to Dumbledore's. "Hagrid told me," he began slowly, "that no one lived if Voldemort wanted him or her dead. But I did. And if he'd still out there, I don't think he'll stop until I'm out of his way." He swallowed. "I deserve to know."

Dumbledore fixed him with a calculating look. "You really wish to have a burden upon your shoulders that even grown men should not have? Your childhood will be gone – your innocence will be lost to you forever," he said in a very serious tone that took Harry by surprise.

But Harry nodded anyway, and Dumbledore sighed. "Then I shall tell you," he said sadly. "But I should have liked to have waited until you were older – to be sure that you could handle such news –" He shook himself. "But you have fought a man's fight – you are a man enough for this."

And so Albus Dumbledore settled back in his chair, straightened his golden half-moon glasses, and folded his hands across the place where his long white beard was tucked into his belt. "I shall start at the very beginning," he said. "You see, _Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth_ …"

In the course of the next fifteen minutes, Harry Potter's life changed forever. What Dumbledore said was true – his childhood vanished. His innocence was taken from him. He would never laugh the way other children did again. He would never again see the world with the wide-eyed stare of a child. Instead, the world turned into a colder place, one where good and evil are not so well defined, and where the lines separating the two are blurred so much until there is the gray space between them.

"_So," said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him, "so does that mean that … that one of us has got to kill the other one … in the end?"_

"_Yes," said Dumbledore._

_For a long time, neither of them spoke. Somewhere far beyond the_ hospital wing _walls, Harry could hear the sound of voices, students heading down to the Great Hall for_ lunch, _perhaps. It seemed impossible that there could be people in the world who still desire food, who laughed, who neither knew nor cared that_ he was now a marked man. People carried on with their daily lives, and he no longer could. They would be free to grow up how they pleased, be friends with who they wanted, laugh without worrying about the next moment.

"Professor," said Harry in a small voice, "I want to go away from Hogwarts."

Dumbledore looked startled at this. "Go away from Hogwarts?"

"Yes," said Harry in a firmer voice, and straightened his back. "I want to go away and start learning how to beat him. I don't want to wait for the next six years to start training for this. I want to start now."

There was a moment of silence, and then Dumbledore rose from his chair. "I think that is a very good idea."

* * *

"He's gone? What do you mean, he's gone?"

Albus Dumbledore sighed and resisted the urge to rub his eyes tiredly. "What I mean, Mr. Weasley, is that Harry has been removed from Hogwarts," he said calmly, gazing at Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger with a sad expression on his face. "Harry and I spoke and came to a decision together. He will not be returning to school."

"Then where is he?" Hermione asked at once, her hands twisting in her lap. "Is he hurt? Is he in danger?"

"He is in excellent health," Albus replied, steepling his fingers on the top of his desk. "He is not in any danger." He leaned forward slightly. "I'm sorry, Miss Granger – I cannot tell you anymore."

"Can't we write to him?" Ron pleaded, and his face looked so desperate that Albus almost gave in. Instead, he shook his head.

"I'm afraid owls will not be able to reach Harry where he's at. I imagine that he will be out of touch for a very long time …"

How long that would be, no one knew.

Halfway across the world, Harry Potter was being introduced to his new life. He rose at five every morning regardless of the day. He ran ten miles by six. He ate lots of protein and carbohydrates for breakfast. He lifted weights until nine. He studied hand-to-hand combat until lunch. He studied magical combat until five. He was given a break until dinner. He studied politics and advanced magic until eight. Then he went to sleep.

This was to be his days for the next six years of his life.


	2. The Hooded Man

**Summary**: "I deserve to know." When Dumbledore reveals the secrets of Harry's past after the disastrous events of his first year, Harry's fate is sealed. At his own insistence, he disappears to be trained and protected without a word to anyone. Six years later, life forces him back into the halls of Hogwarts and into the lives of the friends he left behind. But the Harry they knew is gone. In his place is a cold, calculating, distant young man haunted by the decision he made as an eleven-year-old boy.

**A/N:** One thing to say – wow. I was not expecting so many people to enjoy this story at all. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and review! It really means a lot, and kept me motivated to write this chapter. I probably rewrote the beginning about seven times, because nothing seemed to really be the right way to start it. I finally settled on this, and it satisfied me. I'm on winter break now, so I should have a little more time to write than I normally do.

Remember - if you like it, let me know! Constructive criticism is welcomed, and let me know if there's anything you'd like to see.

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**CHAPTER ONE: The Hooded Man**

Laughter had become a very rare occurrence as of late. It was a sound that was rarely heard in the Wizarding world anymore due to the fear that hung around everything. But it was this blessed sound that filled the late July air around Ginny Weasley. It was a sound she hadn't heard in weeks, and here it was in abundance. She sighed and leaned further back in the porch swing by the back door of the Burrow. Hope finally filled her heart again.

It had been a long time since the Weasley family had been together. She couldn't recall the entire family being in one place at the same time since before she went to Hogwarts for a reason other than a family emergency – and the Weasley family had seen plenty emergencies in the past six years. But now they were celebrating her brother Bill's engagement to Fleur Delacour, the pretty French witch that had begun to work at Gringotts a year a half earlier.

It certainly was odd, seeing so much red in the crowd. Of course, it wasn't the only color of hair – there was Fleur's silvery-blonde, the bushy brown of Hermione, Remus Lupin's gray and thinning hair, the flash of bright pink from Nymphadora Tonks, and the stark white of Professor Dumbledore. Most students would have found his attendance odd, Ginny mused as she took a long drink of her butterbeer, as he was not particularly close to Bill and hardly knew Fleur. In fact, he was closer to Ron and Ginny herself than he was to Bill. But no one complained – Dumbledore's twinkling tea lights and mulled mead made up for this fact.

"Mind if we join you?"

She glanced up and found Ron and Hermione by the door, hands clasped between them. She grinned and made room for Hermione to sit next to her; Ron leaned against the porch railing and surveyed the party across the lawn. "As much as Fleur drives me up the wall," he said in amusement after a long silence stretched between them, "I'm happy for Bill. I think they're good for each other. Fleur really loves him – you can see it in her eyes, and Bill's, too."

Hermione and Ginny shared a grin. Ron had matured so much over the past year and a half. He certainly had always been so intuitive. Hermione leaned forward and ran a hand over his knee tenderly. "Of course they do," she agreed. "Do you think your mother would let them get married if they didn't love each other?" Ron laughed and leaned down to kiss his girlfriend of four months – Ginny pointedly looked away.

"We're cutting the cake!" Mrs. Weasley yelled from across the yard, waving the trio over. Ginny stretched and unfolded her legs from underneath her before following Ron and Hermione over to the crowded table. Bill and Fleur sat in the middle of everything, him grinning like a madman and Fleur glowing and radiant. Ginny was genuinely happy for her bother. It wasn't often that people found great love in the middle of a war.

The war. Ginny couldn't help but sigh as she watched her mother hand out cake. Two years had passed since they had first received news of Voldemort's return, and they had been filled with death and grief. She still remembered the savage attack on Hogsmeade earlier that spring during the Easter holidays, leaving so many people broken and bleeding the streets. She remembered Charlie tearing her away from the corpse of the little girl that had died in her arms. She had been so precious – long dark curls, a button nose, the bluest eyes she had ever seen. And then she had been gone. Even now, Ginny still had nightmares about it.

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, silencing the crowd and shaking Ginny out of her reverie. He smiled at them and nodded at the happy couple. "I am very honored to have been invited to celebrate the engagement of Mr. Weasley and Miss Delacour," he said cheerfully, his eyes twinkling. "They are a well-matched couple, complementing each other in a way that is very rare." Here, Dumbledore raised his glass of mulled mead, and the others followed suit. "To Bill and Fleur."

"To Bill and Fleur," the crowd cried in agreement, and Ginny even managed to get a drink of her own to have with the rest. Her stomach warmed pleasantly, and she grinned at Fred and George over her glass –

"Stop!"

Ginny dropped her glass at the shout that echoed around the yard, so stern and commanding and harsh. She glanced around, trying to find the source of the voice. Dumbledore found it first, his wand appearing in his hand as he pointing it at the cloaked figure at the gate. "Who are you?" he demanded, the twinkle gone from his eye. "Reveal yourself at once."

"I'm a friend," said the cloaked man in a stern voice, authority in his words. "We all want the Dark Lord dead, don't we?"

Dumbledore lowered his wand a fraction of an inch. "Why have you come?" And how did you get past the wards?"

The man laughed humorlessly. "How I got past the wards is irrelevant," he said, and jerked his head over his shoulder. "I would be more worried about the Death Eaters trying to bring down the wards at the edge of the property."

Ginny felt panic growing in her chest at his words but quickly squashed it down. Panic never helped; in fact, it only served to make people stupid and hasty. She watched, out of the corner of her eye, Ron put his arm around Hermione protectively. She was sure that the older witch would shrug him off, and was amazed to see Hermione lean against him.

"My master informed me of their activities and sent me ahead to warn you," he answered in a more pleasant tone, pushing the gate open and taking long strides toward them. "I'm afraid that everyone under the age of seventeen is going to have to come with me. Those of age are free to stay and help keep the wards intact until my master arrives with help."

"I will not send my children with a perfect stranger!" cried Mrs. Weasley, drawing her wand protectively and pointing it at him. "He could be a Death Eater, Albus! How can you trust him?"

The man was still for a long moment, and then he yanked his left sleeve up to his elbow. "Does that satisfy you?" he snapped, displaying his smooth, tan forearm. "I have no Mark, and any fool knows that the Dark Lord requires his followers to take it." He pulled it back down. "The only thing you need to know about me is that I would rather bleed myself to death than join that bastard."

Something akin to admiration spread throughout her – admiration for his standing up to her mother, for being so willing to prove himself, for talking about Voldemort like that. She grinned and ducked her head so her mother wouldn't see her.

"I can't show you who I am," he said in a quieter voice. "I'm under strict orders not to take down this hood until we're safely away – it's for _my_ safety and yours." His head turned in Dumbledore's direction. "Professor – you'll understand soon."

There was a terse moment, and Dumbledore lowered his wand. "We have no choice but to trust him, Molly," he said with a sigh. "He is certainly not a Death Eater."

Mrs. Weasley looked torn, glancing back and forth between the man and Dumbledore. After what seemed like an eternity, she sighed. "Ron, Ginny, Hermione – go with him."

Ron and Hermione made identical cries of outrage. "We're of age!" Ron shouted. "You can't make us leave. Hermione's not even your daughter."

"You're still children!" Mrs. Weasley gasped. "You've no experience with this sort of thing –"

"We fought in Hogsmeade this spring," said Hermione stubbornly. "We're of age, Mrs. Weasley – we know what we're doing."

"Fine," she snapped. "But Ginny has to go."

"I can stay!" Ginny insisted hotly, crossing her arms across her chest. "I can fight – you know I can!"

"You're underage," said the man in the cloak sternly, already moving toward her. "The Death Eaters know that, and they'll take advantage of it."

"This isn't fair," said Ginny fiercely. "You know I can fight –"

She felt her father's hand on her shoulder. "We just want you safe, Ginny," he said in a small voice. "Please go."

She didn't move for several long moments, and then sighed. "Do I have time to pack up a few things?"

The man, now at her elbow, seemed to brighten immediately. "I'll go with you," he said, and stuck out his hand to Mr. Weasley. "Please don't worry – your daughter will probably be safer with me than she would be even at Hogwarts."

The two men shook hands and exchanged a quiet word as Ginny hugged her mother. "Don't do anything rash," Mrs. Weasley scolded. Ginny bit her tongue to prevent a rude comment from slipping out and nodded before tugging on the man's sleeve to pull him toward the house.

They climbed the stairs to her room in silence. He watched her pack her things from the doorway, peering around the place that housed the most private parts of her – the pictures stuck in the frame of her mirror, the Harpies posters that covered the walls, the stuffed dragon that lay in the tangled sheets of her unmade bed. She was conscious of his eyes on her back as she threw a few changes of clothes in a bag, her diary, and a few other odds and ins. She zipped up her bag, and then snatched up her dragon and stuffed it inside quickly. She couldn't sleep without it.

She glanced around the room once more. "I'm ready," she said, and he straightened up and offered her his arm. "Can't I at least know your name?"

He turned his face toward her, and she caught his grin under his hood. "Harry," he said, drawing a cup from his pocket. "Harry Potter."

The world dissolved in a whirl of color.


End file.
